


Taking Care

by catnip



Category: Power Rangers
Genre: Idiots Pining, M/M, Pre-Relationship, bed sharing, non-graphic wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnip/pseuds/catnip
Summary: Days after the battle is over, Tommy's injuries are still bothering him. Adam offers some help. Simple, awkward tending between goofs who should be kissing.
Relationships: Tommy Oliver/Adam Park
Kudos: 10





	Taking Care

**Author's Note:**

> Set nebulously some time during Zeo or Turbo, doesn't really matter. The only thing here contradicting canon at all is references to them being college students rather than stuck in highschool hell forever, cause that's how I roll with my universes. Enjoy!

"Stop picking at it."

"I can't help it, it itches li- ow!"

Tommy pulled his hand back, rubbing his now stinging knuckles. Adam continued to brandish his pencil menacingly in Tommy's direction. 

“Alright alright, I got it. Don’t go full nun on me and get out a ruler or something.”

Adam shook his head with a grin and returned to his writing. Tommy tried to focus on his work too, but the patchwork of scabbed over cuts scattered all across his legs were a hard distraction to ignore. They were a couple days old now, which meant they had entered the "obnoxiously itchy" phase of healing. A good sign. But annoying as hell. 

The monster had gotten the drop on all of them as they were leaving the movie theater. Cat-tus. A stupid name for a stupid looking monster; giant, green, and fuzzy. But its spines and claws had been no joke. Only quick reflexes and more than a little luck had saved Tommy, unmorphed, from wounds deep enough to need stitches. 

Their suits had almost been cut through by the sharp as knives attacks when the battle had finally been over. So it could have ended far worse.

"Hey," a sock covered foot jostled his leg, Adam's call pulling Tommy from the battle replay in his head, "quit it man. You're bleeding."

He looked and realized he'd been absentmindedly scratching again. A small red droplet welled up where he'd scraped off a bit of the scab. "Ah, shit."

“Here, hang on.” Shoving at the double stacked textbooks and notebook in his lap, it took Adam a few seconds to unearth himself enough to crawl over toward his nightstand. He opened the drawer, rustling out a package of travel sized tissues and pulling one out. "Put this on it. I can get something to help with the itching.”

"You don't gotta do that," Tommy countered, though he took the offered tissue and pressed it against the cut. It was hardly a big deal. Only one tiny bead of blood, the wound mostly healed. 

Adam ignored him though, already leaving the bedroom to get whatever he had in mind.

Tommy idly dabbed at the cut a few more times. But it didn't bleed anymore. Crumpling the dirtied tissue in hand, he shaped it into a lopsided ball and tried to shoot for the trashcan in the corner of the room. 

It floated gently about a foot before falling to the ground. He snorted, shaking his head. Figures.

With a slight grimace he stood, his cuts shifting as his skin moved and stretched in a less than pleasant way; maybe a little help wasn’t such a bad idea. Tissue properly disposed of he sat back down, on his hands to keep them honest, and waited. The faint sound of running water drifted down the hall and into the bedroom.

When Adam returned he had a small plastic container in hand. He kneeled down at the side of the bed, seeming to double check everything inside before setting it aside on the floor. "Okay, stick your legs out."

Tommy did as he was told. His legs were subjected to a quick visual inspection.

“Are they just itchy? If you think any are getting infected that’s a whole different thing.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just the usual irritating itch.” 

“Okay. Some of them are a little red, but,” Adam looked at him with an expression that managed to be both smirky and judgemental at the same time, “that’s probably from messing around with them.”

“Thank you, Dr. Park,” Tommy threw back teasingly, “for such a thorough diagnosis. What’s your treatment plan?”

“Just some Vaseline.” Adam turned back to the bucket, pulling out a container and using a discarded textbook on the bed as a makeshift table. He popped it open and took a two fingered swipe from it as he spoke. “Part of the reason they itch is because they get too dry. If you moisturize with petroleum jelly, it helps. Lessens the scarring too.”

“Cool.”

A more intelligent response flew right out of Tommy’s head as Adam’s fingers ran across his skin, coating the first cut. The touch was almost feather light. Just enough to spread the ointment, but not disturb the skin more than necessary. 

Tommy held back a shiver and told himself it was just the minor shock of the cool jelly on his leg.

An offer to do this himself bounced around in his mind and down to the tip of his tongue, feeling half bad that Adam was touching his gnarly scabs. But it never made its way out. Adam seemed unbothered, looking at ease as he gently covered another cut and went back to the container to recoat his fingers. 

And Tommy found he wanted to selfishly enjoy being the subject of such singularly focused attention. 

His own focus wandered; drifted between watching Adam’s fingers move and the care they took as they slid over his skin, and studying the profile of his face as he tipped it ever so _so_ slightly this way and that. The task required no great skill or effort, only simple repetition. But Tommy was a captive audience. 

“What did you tell your parents about these?” After a time, Adam’s words interrupted his staring. Probably for the better. “I’m assuming they asked.”

“Yeah,” he took a moment to clear his throat, “I tried to just wear pants, but it’s been too damn hot for that. So I told my mom that some of us went out hiking and I uh, stumbled into a thorny bush.”

Adam hesitated for half a second mid-swipe. “And she believed you?”

“I’m not sure if the look she gave me when I told her was _‘I can’t believe you think I’m stupid enough to believe that’_ or _‘I can’t believe my college aged son is stupid enough to do that’_ ,” Tommy laughed, “but either way she told me to be careful and didn’t ask any more questions.”

Adam laughed with him. Or maybe at him. “That’s lucky, cause that’s probably one of the worst excuses any of us have ever used.” 

They swapped injury alibis back and forth - deciding that the worst one was probably the time Rocky told his parents he tripped and fell straight into a doorknob to explain a giant bruise in the middle of his forehead - until Adam was done with that half of leg. He scooted himself even closer to the bed, reaching across to the other. That one had taken the worst of it; most of the numerous lacerations criss crossed each other, some spots simply a small mass of scab rather than a clean cut line.

Tommy cringed as he watched a few flecks of dried blood break free as the Vaseline was spread across. He couldn’t hold his tongue any longer at that.

“I can do the rest, you know. My arms aren’t broken.”

“First aid is always easier when somebody else does it.” 

Tommy was pretty sure he’d said that once upon a time. His own pep talks coming back to contradict him. 

And if Adam was grossed out by it like Tommy thought he should be, he still didn’t show it, sounding rather matter of fact as he grabbed the still out tissue packet with his free hand and wrestled one out. “Remember that time you had to hold me while Billy put my dislocated shoulder back in the socket and I practically screamed you deaf?” he reminisced as he cleaned the area. “Or that time I threw up blood all over you?”

Tommy did, the memory of that one bringing with it a frown. “Hard to forget that.”

“Right,” Adam tossed the tissue aside, out of the way but within reach, “and you didn’t say anything about it. Then or all the other times. It’s part of the job so we’re all pretty used to it, I think.”

“Guess so. Shitty job sometimes.”

Adam chuckled. “Won’t argue with that. Besides…” He finished taking a careful pass at another cut before pausing, looking up at Tommy for the first time since he had started. “It’s you. So I don’t mind.”

He said it with a shrug and another _that's-just-how-it-is_ casual measure in his voice, but softened enough now that it seemed to physically melt straight into Tommy’s eardrums, and Tommy could have choked. Would have choked, looking at Adam looking back at him with a small barely there smile, eyes showing so much more than that like they always did, but-

But his mouth felt dry as a desert.

The moment passed a second too long and then Adam was looking away, attention back to the task at hand.

Body a bit more rigid, movements tight, and Tommy didn’t question too hard how he could read such small changes so well. They’d been fighting side by side for years. Learn your teammates body language or suffer for it. Right? Right. 

And it didn’t mean anything. Adam hadn’t seen anything in his own carefully held face, and Tommy had only been seeing what he wanted to see.

“After I’m done, I’ll wrap everything in gauze just so the stuff doesn’t get smeared all over,” Adam mumbled out after a stretch of silence.

Tommy finally got his tongue to fumble out a thanks.

It didn’t take too much longer to finish up that section of leg. Adam sat back on his heels, greasy hand held carefully away from his body and bedsheets as he looked to Tommy again.

“Um. You have some on your thigh, right?” He gestured toward the leg where there were clearly a few red marks peeking out from under Tommy’s shorts. Oh.

“Uh, just a couple. It’s not a big deal though. They don’t itch as much.”

“It’s fine, let me just-”

“I can do those, you don’t have to-”

They talked over each other as Adam attempted to push up the bottom of the shorts enough to get to the cuts that needed tending. But it proved difficult to do one handed, the jean material resistant to being moved and simply flopping back into place despite his increasingly frustrated shoves.

“Here, look, I can-”

“I just need to-”

Their hands bumped as Tommy reached to help. Adam quickly yoinked his away. 

“I’ll just, uh. Fold them a little. That’s probably easier.” Despite the wild thudding every vein in his body was doing, Tommy couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Glancing up for a quick second, he was happy to see that Adam seemed amused himself. If a bit ruffled at the edges.

“Probably,” he muttered in good humored defeat.

It only took three quick folds to uncover everything. Tommy was thankful the cuts only extended a few inches above his knee and only on one side. Despite the clumsy interlude, Adam dutifully got back to it, slathering the last of them in jelly and cleaning up as he went without comment. 

Tommy did his best not to stare this time, finding the closed window above Adam’s bed of intense interest.

Then the job was done, and Adam relaxed, brushing his hair out of his face. Tommy watched it instantly fall back into place. His fingers twitched, but he kept them to himself. “Did I miss any spots?”

“Got them all, Doc.”

The levity fell a little flat this time. 

Adam clicked the top back on the tub and fished a thick roll of gauze from the supply bucket. He wiped the excess goop from his fingers onto the fabric so not to waste any, getting them as cleaned as he could before beginning to wrap. Tommy moved his legs as directed and held the wrappings in place as Adam arranged and cut and taped. He was quick at it, efficient. Practiced.

Yeah, their job sucked. 

“There. Mummification complete.”

Tommy bent and wiggled his leg this way and that, testing the wraps. “Thanks, man. They feel better already.”

“No problem.” Adam quickly gathered everything up and back into the container, scooping it up by the handle as he stood. Not looking at Tommy at all.

Before he could disappear to put everything away and Tommy told himself to wipe most of what happened from his mind, he reached out and grabbed Adam’s free wrist.

“I mean it.”

Adam blinked at him, owlish. Caught. 

Tommy loosened his grip but didn’t let go. Let his fingers slide against warm skin as it slacked in a way that was completely unintentional. 

“I appreciate it.” Tommy felt like his lips were burning as he spoke. Not saying the words he wanted to say, but barely able to say them all the same. “I know you always have my back and… that means a lot. Thank you.” 

“Yeah.” Adam awkwardly adjusted the bucket in his arms, contents clunking around as he pressed it against his chest. “Sure. Always. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right.” 

Adam smiled, and Tommy let him go. Fell back onto the bed with a dull thud after watching his hasty exit.

They’d go back to studying as soon as Adam returned, back to the comfortable atmosphere that they usually had together. 

Then they would decide to take a break and order a pizza, hiding away in Adam’s room from his parents with their spoils like they were still wayward highschool kids trying not to draw attention to themselves. They’d turn on the radio while they ate, only half listening as they passed the time talking.

Then it would be more work, stretching until the sun was full set outside. Adam would fall asleep first - accidental and unusual, claiming he just wanted to relax for a second. Tommy would give up for a break of his own not long after. 

He’d do his best to clear away space on the bed without putting too much real effort into it. And in the process he’d discover that Adam had finished all his homework who knows how long ago - instead there were pages in his still open notebook full of random doodles and writing snippets, though Tommy would never read them without permission. But he’d never said anything; had stayed piled up in bed as pleasant company and a humorous sounding board for all of Tommy’s complaints.

Tommy would pull his hair tie out with a shake of his head and lay down on the opposite side of the bed.

It would never cross his mind to wake Adam up. Or to call it quits and go home.

It was an ending made up of familiar bits and pieces collected and arranged from their years together. 

And Tommy would let himself slip into his own ill advised cat nap, looking at Adam’s back across the mattress, wondering what things maybe could change. One day.

**Author's Note:**

> take no medical advice from this because no one involved has any official training, and it's certainly bad practice to keep sticking your fingers into an ointment jar over and over. but q-tips just aren't as sexy, you feel me? the injuries adam references are actually other story ideas i have had which are unlikely to come to fruition, but at least they can live quietly as throwaway lines in this one, haha.
> 
> come say hi if you feel like on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/trashbrain) or [tumblr](https://depmode.tumblr.com/) where it is always adam/tommy and general power ranger hours.


End file.
